


Sugar Sweet

by rikujo (helphiddlestoned)



Series: 25 Days of Fic [14]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 25 Days of Fic, Baking, Christmas Fluff, Day 14: Gingerbread, F/M, Fluff, it saddens me that this is a rare pair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 21:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13016874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helphiddlestoned/pseuds/rikujo
Summary: In which Christmas baking ends up being ten times more fun than normal, and a little more messy.





	Sugar Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Day 14 and a real rare pair. Hopefully for the very few of you that ship it, this is enjoyable! As always, I use Léa as Belgium's name.

Tucked away from the cold of the snow dusted streets, Léa hummed brightly along to the radio sat on the corner of her kitchen table. Piping bag in hand, she iced a delicate pattern around a snowflake shaped gingerbread, her hips swinging every so often to the beat of the familiar Christmas tunes. She defied anyone that said an afternoon couldn’t be made better with baking.

The only slight pall on the situation being that she didn’t get to eat any of it, but giving was the whole point of Christmas, and she found her fellow nations appreciated something edible rather than something material. Most of them had everything they could want for, after all.

She finished the last bit of careful piping with a flourish, pulling back with a bright smile.

“There, all done! 24 perfect snowflakes, if I do say so myself.”

She lifted her head to find Francis stood straight, resting a hand on the back of one of the chairs, with his piping bag already set down on the table and an equally neat set of iced gingerbread men before him.

“I think you’ll find that I have beaten you yet again.” he offered smoothly, smiling.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Hm, but are they perfect?”

“Perfectionism is overrated, no? It is the doing that makes the difference.” Léa shook her head at him fondly, somehow doubting the sincerity when she swore he only came out with such things when it was to his advantage. “Though I think you’ll find they are quite perfect.” he added, making her smother a laugh.

“Well they do look remarkably good, I have to admit that.” she conceded as she set down her own piping bag.

“Oui, good enough to eat.”

“Ah, no eating,” she said quickly, lifting a warning finger. “Or if you do, eat yours. But then you’ll have nothing on Christmas and you will not be allowed to complain to me.”

He chuckled as he stepped round the table, lifting the oven-gloves from the back of one of the chairs as he went. “Very well, I shall be patient. The Christmas trees should be ready to come out, yes?”

One glance at her watch and Léa nodded. “Yep, and that’s the last batch so I can start clearing this mess away.” she said, gesturing at the various mixing bowls and utensils scattered on the table between the wire cooling racks of finished biscuits.

She grabbed the sugar first, rolling the top of the packet over and then turning to slot it back in the cupboard as Francis lifted the next tray of gingerbread from the oven. As he set them down to cool she went to do the same with the flour, shifting the bag across the table towards her.

“Were there not meant to be 28 of the Christmas trees?” Francis asked, frowning a little, and she looked up with a confused hum.

“Yes, 28, I counted them myself.”

“Then we’re missing one.”

“What?”

She didn’t get a chance to say anything else because she was suddenly engulfed in a cloud of white. Coughing, she blinked hastily, and tried to stumble backwards.

It was only when her back hit the counter and the haze cleared slightly that she realised what she’d done—her fingers had clenched around the flour bag.

She turned towards Francis with wide eyes and found him staring back at her, just as shocked, but then she sneezed. More flour rose, off her clothes and hair this time, and before she could shake away the sensation, Francis let out a helpless peel of laughter.

Trying fruitlessly to brush the flour away, she pretended to pout at him.

“Laughing at a lady in distress is a little rude, you know.” she chastised but it did nothing to stop him chuckling.

“My apologies, ma cherie. Would you like me to valiantly fetch you a hairbrush?” he suggested, eyes shining. Léa covered a smile of her own despite the flour now all over her hands.

“I think I can manage without you.”

He pressed a hand to his chest, mock wounded. “Ah, I am to be cast aside. It is a crying shame.”

She shook her head, eyes trailing over the fine dusting of flour lingering on the table and the patch of floor where she’d been standing. That would be fun to clean up later. In fact, the only thing not sprinkled with white seemed to be Francis…slowly, her smile took on a mischievous tilt.

“Hm, you look rather out of place.” she said, making him raise an eyebrow.

“Do I? And how would that be?”

“Well everything else is covered in flour, so…” she began. Francis immediately took a step away from her.

“Oh no, I don’t think so, you are not ruining my—” She reached out before he could stop her and drew a finger down his nose, leaving a white smudge behind. He wrinkled his nose, propping a hand on his hip. “Was that necessary?”

She switched fingers and wiped a stripe onto one cheek and then the other too, her smile spreading. “It was _completely_ necessary.” She couldn’t help a small laugh. “Aw, you look almost like you have cat whiskers. How cute!”

“Hm, well perhaps if you like them so much we should give you some.” She got as far as opening her mouth but Francis dipped a finger into the bowl of leftover icing on the table and the next she knew she was ducking away from sticky sugar on her cheek with a squeak. “Fair is fair, now we match.”

“Icing is much worse than flour!” she protested but he only smirked.

Eyes narrowing playfully, she swiped a finger into the icing bowl herself and dived forward to wipe a spot of it across Francis’s forehead. He was quick though, smudging more onto her cheekbone in return with a laugh.

Determined not to be outdone, she drew a line down his forearm, making him curse at the stickiness and leaving her giggling. Pride came before a fall, though, because he quickly ran a finger down her chin and onto her neck. She let out a squeal, weaving away to dip her finger into the icing bowl again, and when she managed to smear a line down his cheek, Francis finally held up his hands through his chuckles.

“Ah, no, I give in, truce, truce!”

She let her hands flop back to her sides at last, her giggles beginning to subside. “I think that makes it my victory. At least I beat you at one thing today, no?”

Francis clicked his tongue, though he smiled. “A very cheeky thing—merde, I think there is some in my hair.”

She offered a slightly more sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, but in all fairness, you started with the icing.”

“That I cannot deny…and it seems to have worked a little too well.” he added, reaching out to brush some of the already drying icing from her chin with a soft huff of laughter.

“Mm, we do seem to have made a bit of a mess.”

“Well since you have beaten me fair and square, I shall have to do the majority of the clearing up.” His fingers slipped away only to take hers and he bent with a flourish to kiss the back of her hand. “I am your humble servant.”

She beamed back. It was certainly a pleasant end to baking.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated! You can also come and bother me at anglaisaph on tumblr ❤


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